


"Oh Where Are We Going?"

by flaxenfreckle



Series: Bremen [1]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon-typical Cursing, Descriptor heavy I guess?, From Davenport's POV, Gen, IPRE Crew - Freeform, It's more of the dynamic between the captain and his crew, Spoilers for Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, boat terminology, cause it may be a flying magical boat but its still a boat, i have a lot of headcanons okay, pls be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:11:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flaxenfreckle/pseuds/flaxenfreckle
Summary: "He doesn’t recognize any of these stars. He can’t find any of the constellations of their homeworld. He’s spent his entire life with a head turned skywards memorizing and mapping out the night sky and for the first time, there is no comfort or curiosity or feeling of sonder and excitement when he looks at the distant pinpricks of light.The first steps that come into the control room are heavy. They shake the floor and without looking he can tell it’s Magnus. Following his footsteps are light ones that fall heel, toe, hesitant. Lucretia’s. Then Barry’s heavy footfalls, not nowhere near as heavy as Magnus’s in their diffidence, and afterwards Merle’s waddle. The last steps that fall into the control room are in sync and light - the lightest actually - and it’s the fact that Davenport can barely hear or feel them, he know it’s the twins, slinking in after everyone else.He stays there, for a moment frozen, looking out into the unfamiliar starscape."





	"Oh Where Are We Going?"

**Author's Note:**

> I've had an idea for this series for a while now and thought it be good for my motivation if I posted the first part. I hope y'all enjoy it!

Davenport stands at the control panel of the Starblaster, looking out at the prime material plane below, being taken over - _consumed_ \- by what he does not yet understand. What for many _, many_ years he will not understand, and even then, just so. His hands are tight where they grip the helm and he can feel how his blunt nails dig into palms.

The dark opalescent cloud closes in. Like a snake swallowing down it’s prey, except for the fact it’s inhuman, and yet purposeful in how every plane is methodically absorbed and Davenport’s breath hitches even if later he won’t admit it to himself.

He is the captain of this ship and of this crew. He can feel the thrum of the bond engine through the floor. The hum of it something he’s attuned himself to ever since the construction of the Starblaster and it’s subsequent creation. Even more so when he pushed for this mission. He’s fought for this mission to be pushed, advocating on his literal _decades_ in the IPRE to be even considered an option for any position.

Distantly, he can hear the yells and sobs of his crew as they watch their homeworld be destroyed. His priority is their safety, from the point of liftoff and their two month journey began, that, along with the collection of information, is _his_ main objective.

All contact to the institute has failed. They can’t be reached. And Davenport knows he has decisions. Options. But those dwindle in numbers as the tendrils of the clouds starts to close in and it’s either them or - or _them._

He guns it.

The ship lurches away from the cloud, and it takes all he can to avoid it. Maneuvers he’s itched to try, know he could pull off, but the risk of being seen as another goofy Gnome, well. He’ll deal with that when they get back into contact with the institute. He can hear the yells more clearly now, but ignores them. A captain looks after his crew and that is _exactly_ what he intends to do.

He’s responsible for all of them. He feels he’s somehow responsible for all of _this,_ whatever this may be.

When they successfully breach the barrier between planes, his entire body tickles and stings with phantom pain. It burns - to feel like his very soul is being picked apart and examined it’s well - it’s unpleasant. To the soles of his feet to his brain, beginning to pulse with a migraine, it feels as if nothing will ever amount to this type of nauseating illusion of _not_ -pain ever again.

Then it stops. A few seconds at the most and Davenport bites his lip to keep himself upright and from clamping his hands over his ears. They twitch, sensitive and he feels like their covering of peach fuzz has been seared off with fire and ice.

When Davenport gathers himself, all he sees ahead the planes. Twelve of them as it should be and some of the tension fades when that unnatural, sickly, beautiful thirteenth plane is absent.

( Contact to the institute still won’t go through, there is an uncomfortable buzzing static filling the instruments. )

When Davenport steers the Starblaster into the prime material plane all the anxiety, the fear, the _horror_ returns.

In front of him is a black sky full of unfamiliar stars. Stars that flash in purples and reds, cosmic kinds of blues in the burning embers of far out dying stars. Nebulae he can see with his naked eye, starforms that are beautiful.  His stomach turns.

He doesn’t recognize _any_ of these stars. He can’t find any of the constellations of their homeworld. He’s spent his entire _life_ with a head turned skywards memorizing and mapping out the night sky and for the first time, there is no comfort or curiosity or feeling of sonder and excitement when he looks at the distant pinpricks of light.

For the first time in his gnomish life, Davenport feels fear and terror from looking into the night sky.  His ears tremble, only if he’s the only one who can tell.

The first steps that come into the control room are heavy. They shake the floor and without looking he can tell it’s Magnus. Following his footsteps are light ones that fall heel, toe, hesitant. Lucretia’s. Then Barry’s heavy footfalls, not nowhere near as heavy as Magnus’s in their diffidence, and afterwards Merle’s waddle. The last steps that fall into the control room are in sync and light - the lightest actually - and it’s the fact that Davenport can barely hear or feel them, he know it’s the twins, slinking in after everyone else.

He stays there, for a moment frozen, looking out into the unfamiliar starscape.

Then Drew Davenport lifts his chin, unclenches his hands from the Starblaster’s helm, and faces his crew.

If he looks terrified or panicked, none of them give any indication that they’ve seen it. They all just look... _frightened._

Lucretia openly cries, writing furiously in a journal, the cover bound in a deep red dyed leather, embossed with the IPRE logo. She’s trying to scrub away tears, so they don’t obstruct the ink, but Davenport doesn’t think it matters all that much considering her handwriting is barely legible when she’s upset. She’ll have to end up re-writing anyway.

Magnus looks like he’s about to cry, but in an way that conveys how _furious_ he is. Davenport knows or hopes that after all their training, the head of security amongst the IPRE will know to hold his tongue, but whether he deserves to get yelled at is an insurmountable truth.

Barry looks out of the window, eyes wide behind his thick frames, hands clutching the sides of his jeans, trembling. He has seen exactly what Davenport hasn’t seen.

The twins are the only ones who seem the least shaken by this. They look at Davenport, expressions schooled into those of nonchalance and disinterest and apart from the way Taako’s eyebrow twitches and the way Lup’s freckled ears haven’t stopped moving and they way both of them hold each other’s hand tight, does it really show their actual panic.

And Merle looks straight at him. He’s worried, doesn’t know what to do, just like the rest of them, but he trusts Davenport.

They all do.

Davenport clears his throat and they all look at him, standing straighter, falling into line. Lucretia continues to write, Barry continues to tremble, and Magnus still looks ready to punch him, but they all stand at attention.

“Crew,” Davenport addresses them, surprised at how his voice is even and strong even though all of _that_ just happened to them.

“Yes, Captain.” They all say in unison, even as subdued and shaky as it is.

Davenport feels his ears twitch and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Behind his eyelids he can see the black opalescence of that thirteenth plane again and he opens his eyes, furrows his brow before addressing them again.

“As you know, or may have figured out, we’re not in our Planes anymore.” He says and looks out of the observation window, anxiety curling around his spine.

“Yeah, no shit.” He hears Taako mutter and then a his of pain, when Lup - he figures - elbows him in his side.

“Shut up!” She hisses and - and for _now_ Davenport ignores them.

(He’s ignoring a lot of things right now.)

He continues to look out of the window and the planet that is not theirs comes into view, continents some unfortunate mishmosh that is not their homeworlds.

“H-have you tried the - th-the comms?” Barry asks and Davenport looks up at him, straight into his eyes. There is no softening this and he wishes he could, he _cares_ about them but right now they all need to know the truth.

“Yes.” He says. “There was no answer and...And no connection.”

This seems to break Barry and he shudders, burying is face in his hands and weeping. Lucretia cries even harder, dropping her pen, shell-shocked.

The sound of their sobs echo through the control room.

Then Magnus and Lup break break formation. Magnus walks over to Barry, footfalls still heavy, and puts a hand on his shoulder rubbing it as Barry continues to cry. Lup, refusing to let go of Taako - or the other way around - picks up Lucretia’s pen, sticking it behind their chronicler’s ear and takes her journal, passing it to Taako so she wrap her in a one armed hug.

The bond engine hums under their feet, and Davenport hopes he looks at hopeless and useless as he feels in this moment right now. They’re all counting on him, and comfort, making sure they’re all alright - he can’t even do that. None of them are okay in this situation, but he should be able to do _anything_.

Then he takes another deep breath, careful to not let his eyes linger closed for too longer and tamps down each and everyone of those emotions. He can have a break down some other time this year, but not right now.

He walks right between everyone, eyes following him and at the doorway of the control room he looks back. Merle, Magnus, Taako, and Lup are watching him. Lup from over Lucretia’s shoulder and they all look at him with equal quizzical expressions. Davenport jerks his head, beckoning them, and with another flick of his ears he’s leading them down the main staircase of the Starblaster and into the Saloon.

They all sit in the various chairs and couches, picked out by each of them specifically, to combat the uncomfortable, eye strain that was the regulation code furniture.  Davenport doesn’t sit, just waits until his crew crowds on the couch and chairs unwillingly to let them slip from each other’s grasp.

“Where are we going?” Magnus asks when they’ve all settled, before Davenport can get a word in edgewise. “We should be going back and -”

“And what, Security Officer Burnsides?” Davenport challenges. “Go back and risk the same fate? Go back and fight?”

“Yes!” He fumes, the black eye making him seem rougher, but all Davenport sees is a reckless, selfish person who’d rather risk everyone.

Before he can say that though Taako speaks up again. “Yeah, like, no offense Mango, but, uh, you saw how big that thing was right?” His laughs nervously, ears twitching backwards. “You can try, but, uh, tell me how that goes, my man.”

Instead of wanting to punch Davenport, now he looks like he’s ready to throttle Taako, scowling deeply, jaw clenched.

“Uh yeah.” Merle chuckles intervening before Magnus can retort. “Listen, Magnus I know you’re scared - we all are for Pan’s sake - but, uh, let’s think this through a bit, right Dav?”

And Merle catches Davenport’s eye, nodding to him and Davenport nods back, flicking his ears again as all of them are addressed.

“Crew,” He says, and again they all sit up straighter, even Barry and Lucretia as they all sit with each other.

“Yes Captain,” They say, they mutter, they scowl.

“I will be honest with you all,” He starts. “I have no idea what lies ahead of us. What will be waiting for us on the planet of the Prime Material Plane. Whatever that was on Homeworld, it was unnatural and hopefully in the following weeks we can figure out what it was and why that happened and go home.”

Davenport doesn’t know where he’s going with this, but continues. “But we won’t be doing it alone, we’ll all have each other, and even with this...setback, we have a mission, a goal, and duties to play in that goal. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Captain.” They all say again and when Davenports nods a them again, they all slump into the cushions. In the twins’ case, into each other. They’re each other’s only family, next of kin and Davenport shudders himself when he remembers his family. His mother and mama. His six older siblings. His five younger ones. All of his uncles and aunts and cousins.

Lost.

_Consumed._

And then he’s staring at the floor, tamping down his emotions, his memories until they’re a faint tug at the back of his mind. He can panic later, be emotional _later_. Not in front of his crew.

“U-uh, Captain?” Barry’s voice rings in his ears and he looks up at him, hands behind his back to hide their shaking. Barry’s tears have mostly dried and there’s a handkerchief in his hands being wrung out.

“Yes, Science Officer Bluejeans?” He says into the quiet of the room.

“C-captain, where - _what_ are we going to do now?” Barry asks and Davenport blinks, hands gripping each other tighter where others can’t see.

“I suppose, we’re going down to the planet.” He mutters and it catches him off guard. He didn’t think they’d be comfortable in stasis above everything forever, did he?

“Yes, of course,” He speaks up with more confidence. “We’re going planetside, everyone, go to your positions.”

And Davenport walks out of the Saloon, his crew following and dispersing as he goes to the helm of the Starblaster. Their individual steps again, echoing almost in his ears.

It’s time for their journey to begin.

* * *

 

"Said The Brown Dog To The Hen."  


**Author's Note:**

> This entire series was inspired by the song Bremen by PigpenTheater Co. and I think its a real Stolen Century/TAZ song.  
> Thanks for reading!


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